“I’ll pick it up,” I said, dropping it the second its legs moved.
“I’ll get it,” said Mother, grabbing it and putting it into the bucket.
“Look at the porpoises playing in the water!” Dad yelled from the porch. “Over there,” he said, pointing.
“They’re having fun playing,” I said. “Maybe they saw us moving in,” I added, looking up at Mother.
“I suppose you’re right,” she agreed, digging her long toes into the sand and uncovering a clam. “Did you see how easy it was for me to dig up that clam?” Mother asked. “Now you girls try it.”
Soon after I dug in the sand with my stubby toes, I shouted, “I found one!”
“I found one, too,” said Emily, picking it up with her toy shovel.
“I see that,” Mother said. “We need to find more, so I’ll have enough to make clam chowder.”
When the bucket was half full, Mother said, “Go show Daddy what we’ve found.”
Emily and I took off running across the sand and up the steps to our porch. “Mother’s going to make clam chowder,” said Emily, holding the bucket up to our father.
Daddy smiled when he saw our happy faces. “You’re good clam finders, and you found a crab, too.”
On Easter morning, my sister and I yawned sleepily while stumbling into the kitchen.
“Happy Easter,” said Mother, smiling. “Go into the living room. Daddy has an Easter surprise for you.”
“A bed for our dolls,” I said, touching it.
“I built the bed, but your mother stitched the little quilt,” Dad said, grinning at her.
“And I sewed you girls a play outfit with doll clothes to match,” our mother said.
“They’re yellow,” exclaimed Emily. “Just like a baby chick.”
“I love everything,” I said, hugging Mother and Daddy.
After Sis and I put on our new Easter clothes and dressed our dolls in their matching outfits, we played house and later built a sand castle down by the water.
In the morning, Sis and I rode the bus to our new school. When we entered the classroom, our teacher, Miss Overstreet, said, “Boys and girls, I’d like you to welcome our new students, Emma and Emily. Girls, you may sit at the desks on each side of Kayla.”
The girl with braids quickly helped us find the correct page in our reading books. Our plump teacher called on a boy with big ears and shabby clothes to read the first paragraph.
When Zane finished, Miss Overstreet looked at me with her bright eyes. “Emma, would you take the next paragraph, please.”
After reading a few sentences about a bear going to a party, I was happy that I only missed three words.
“Thank you, Emma,” the teacher said. “Now let’s hear from your sister.”
Emily hesitated while she was reading before stumbling over a few long words and losing her place.
“That’s okay, Emily,” said the teacher. “We’ll hear from you later.”
Emily took a deep breath and got red in the face.
Before school was out, the teacher said to my sister and me, “I’d like you girls to practice reading today’s story and also the next one when you get home tonight.”
As soon as we entered the house, Emily and I read the two stories until we didn’t miss a word.
The following weekend, Dad dug up an area where Mother wanted to start a garden, and Sis and I helped her plant all kinds of vegetable seeds. Then Dad built some support boards with a rope attached for the huckleberries to grow on.
A few weeks later, our father took the one-mile ferryboat ride to the island where he worked. But this time before catching the ferry home, he heard Mother hollering across the water, “Henry, pick up five pounds of flour and sugar, one gallon of milk, and two pounds of round steak from the grocery store.”
When Dad walked into the house that night carrying the box of groceries, he said, “Eliza, you embarrassed me in front of the logging crew when you hollered across the water. Next time, tell me what you need before I leave for work.”
Mother glared at Dad before she placed three small steaks into the heated frying pan. Nothing more was said that night, and my twin and I fell happily asleep with our dolls tucked under the little quilt in their bed.
On the following morning when we walked into the classroom, Kayla and Zane and several other children were holding their noses and scurrying about. “P.U., something stinks,” red-haired Jamie said, wrinkling his face.
The students watched Miss Overstreet sniff around the room until she followed the odor to her black boot inside the cloak closet. Picking it up, she peered inside and let out a loud scream. Dropping her boot, she yelled, “A dead rat!” before she dashed to the far end of the room.
“I’ll take care of it,” said Jamie, holding his nose. He picked up the smelly boot with the dead rat inside and tossed it out an open window.
“Everyone leave the room and sit at the lunch tables!” Miss Overstreet shouted. “We’re going to stay outside until this awful stench dissipates. And I’m not ever wearing that stinky boot again!” she declared, causing everyone to giggle.
“I tossed it in the burn barrel,” said Zane, smiling.
“Good for you,” replied the teacher. “You did a brave thing, and so did you, Jamie.”
Once everyone was seated at the lunch tables, Miss Overstreet held up her homemade subtraction cards, and the whole class recited the answers together. During our science lesson, we collected fallen leaves and learned how to identify the corresponding trees. We joined Miss Overstreet in singing patriotic songs before she quizzed us on our spelling words. By the end of lunchtime, the odor was barely noticeable, and we returned to our classroom to finish out the day.
“Having class outdoors was fun,” I told Emily on our bus ride home.
That evening, my sister and I went over the next story in our readers. We practiced off and on until the end of the year, when we could read as well as any student in our class.
During the beginning of summer, our parents paid a fare for the four of us to ride on a fifty-passenger ferryboat from Arletta to Tacoma. While on the ferry, Emily and I loved standing where we could feel the cool mist created by the revolving wheel. When we got off the boat in Tacoma, we browsed in the shops and ate lunch at a café before it was time to catch the ferry back home.
As the weeks passed, Dad started sticking around the logging camp after work and coming home past dinnertime. One morning, Mother said, “Henry, I’m cooking a turkey for dinner tonight, so please try to be home by 6 o’clock.” When Dad walked into the house late, Mother wiped her hands on her homemade apron and said, “I was counting on you to be here so we could eat as a family.”
“I know, but I got to talking to the guys and lost track of time,” Dad said, looking for the food.
“We ate an hour ago, and the leftovers are in the icebox,” Mother said with a sigh.
Dad grunted and promised to do better, but he was still late more often than not. On the nights our father showed up after we ate, Emily and I headed for our room or played outside to avoid Mother’s nagging.
A few weeks later, when Dad came home after working all day at the logging camp, Mother said, “Henry, I wish you’d spend some fun weekends with the family like you used to. And I miss taking strolls in the moonlight down by the water and talking together in the front